


upheaval

by rhymeswithpi



Series: limit break [8]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Gen, Headcanon, Pre-Game(s), cake fixes everything, noct is just confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 20:57:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10749687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhymeswithpi/pseuds/rhymeswithpi
Summary: It wasn’t that he didn’t like having Iggy around so much over the last few weeks. Iggy is…weirdnow. Jumpier. Unfocused.Distant. And hehatesit, hates that he doesn’t know why this is happening.





	upheaval

**Author's Note:**

> this one takes place immediately following the events of shatterheart

Has Specs always looked this _tired_? Noct can’t remember the last time Iggy just... fell asleep in the middle of something. The movie sucks, sure, but he wasn’t expecting _this_. It’s good, though, that Iggy’s getting some sleep. Maybe whatever shit going on between him and Gladio will finally blow over, and things can get back to normal. At least, as normal as things ever get. He turns the volume on the tv down, munches on the popcorn until his fingers hit the bottom of the bowl.

The report is still wedged between Noct’s hip and the arm of the couch. He’d only meant to keep it from Specs for a little while, long enough to get him to stop staring blankly at the table before giving it back. Then Iggy had just looked so _exhausted_ and he’d had to rescue the bowl of popcorn before it crashed to the floor. Just as well, really. It’s not like Iggy had been eating any of it. Iggy needed the sleep, clearly, but why couldn’t he just _say_ that?

Noct wipes his hands on his pants before he stands up to clean the bowl, movie forgotten. Prom had really wanted to watch it, but after the hasty retreat he’d made earlier (seriously, _what is going on with Iggy_ ), it was probably better that he’d left. Leaving the report on the table, he turns on the faucet.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like having Iggy around so much over the last few weeks. Iggy is… _weird_ now. Jumpier. Unfocused. _Distant_. And he _hates_ it, hates that he doesn’t know why this is happening. At first he thought it might’ve been something to do with the so-called ‘special’ training, but Gladio’s been off, too. It can’t be that, and he desperately wishes that was more comforting than it is.

Noct sets the bowl on the rack to dry and watches the lights from the tv on Iggy’s face for a minute. It _can’t_ be comfortable to sleep with his glasses on, can it? Maybe Iggy will wake up soon and go _home_ to sleep. It’s probably best to just leave him be for now. Taking his glasses off might wake him up, and he’s _grumpy_ when he wakes up.

Reading the report himself would probably help. Iggy’s only working so hard to keep him informed on his own kingdom, and it wouldn’t hurt to pick up some of the slack. Especially when the council is meeting _tomorrow_ and neither of them is prepared to sit in on it.

He can give up his day off to help his friend, he decides. After everything Specs has done for him, it’s really the least he can do. Even though he’s barely stared at the front cover and is _already_ bored.

Iggy never even got out a _pen_. Or a notebook, for that matter. Did he even _bring_ them? There’s nothing else on the table. It’s not like him to be so disorganized, but the last few weeks have just been a mess all around. Noct fishes under the table for his school bag, because at least _one_ of them should take notes on what is proving to be the least interesting report ever written.

  


The movie’s been repeating the title screen music for what feels like forever when Noct finally closes the folder. His notes are a disaster, and his handwriting is nowhere near as legible as Iggy’s. He tried, though, and that’s going to have to be enough.

Iggy is still sleeping on the couch, half-slumped over the arm. Damn. He was still hoping he’d wake up on his own, at least take his glasses off for himself, but Iggy’s definitely down for the count. That looks _really_ uncomfortable, though. He should at least get him a blanket. Maybe try to slip off his glasses. Maybe. If the blanket doesn’t disturb him too much, at least.

Noct holds his breath the entire time he’s unfolding the blanket, drapes it carefully over Iggy. The only response is a snuffling snore, and it would be _great_ blackmail material if he just wasn’t so damn _worried_. Slowly, he eases Iggy’s glasses off, folds the arms, sets them on the table with the horrible notes he’d written out. He can do this. If it means Iggy stops looking so tired and gets a day off, he can do this.

Even though that means setting early alarms to get himself to the Citadel on time.

  


Somehow the meeting is even _more_ boring than the report was. He’s sandwiched in between Clarus and some old guy he’s dubbed Big Nose, name forgotten the same moment he’d been introduced. How does Iggy _do_ this? Noct is willing to bet he knows the names and jobs of every person in the room, and that he’d be able to hold his own in a conversation with any of them without his eyes glazing over and his mind wandering.

He’d tried to take useful notes on this, really. He’d _tried_. But Big Nose keeps going on and on about something _pointless_ , and there’s no hope that he’ll retain any of this. Then the Minister of Who Cares argues about no one gives a shit, and _is this meeting over yet_? There’s a lull, and maybe it’s _done_ , but no, Colonel Useless has to blather on about something _else_. This meeting _sucks_ , it’s never going to end, they’re all going to _die here_ while a bunch of old men talk about nothing for the next _fifty years_.

Clarus looks over at the notes he’s taking and cracks a smile. Noct catches his eye briefly, glad at least _someone_ is on his side in this whole mess. His notes have dissolved into doodling in the margins. That might be a grocery list, if he actually had to buy his own groceries, but it’s more a list of the junk food he’s going to get next time Iggy isn’t paying attention.

“Prince Noctis,” Clarus whispers, elbowing him. “They’re asking you a question.”

He looks up from his doodling and everyone is _staring_ at him. That. That would explain the sudden silence. He looks at Clarus, at his father. Colonel Useless looks so _smug_ , and he still has no idea what’s going on.

“Some people juggle geese,” he says with a shrug.

Clarus is stifling laughter next to him. The old fools are _agreeing_. What the hell is this meeting even _about_? But they seem satisfied with his answer, for whatever reason. Maybe this gods-forsaken thing will finally _end._

It drags on for another half hour. He can’t even pretend to take notes at this point, choosing instead to count the number of words in the report. Reading it again is _impossible_ , but anything is better than listening to Big Nose and Colonel Useless argue about… whatever they’re arguing about. Even staring at the report, he can’t figure that out. But they’re all standing up, bowing politely, and he nearly falls out of his chair in the scramble to return the gesture. It’s _over_. He’s never getting those three hours of his life back.

“Noctis,” his father says after the room has cleared. “Wait outside.”

If it gets him out of this room, he’s on board. Everyone else is gone already, the hallway empty as he leans on the wall just outside. Well, at least he can say he _tried_ to pay attention. It’s not his fault Big Nose was so boring. And maybe Iggy will get a laugh out of his notes before sighing and disapproving of the whole affair.

The door finally opens, and Clarus joins him in the hall.

“Geese,” Clarus says. “Good one. I wish I’d thought of that.”

Noct just shrugs.

“Your father has asked that I take you home,” Clarus says, “since you _apparently_ decided to ride the subway to get here.”

“Iggy needed the sleep,” he says. “He’s been acting weird for _weeks_. But since you’re already stuck with me, can we get him cake?”

For a brief moment, Clarus looks just as tired as Iggy. It passes quickly, though, and he smiles down at him.

“Yes. I believe we can.”

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
